


I Heard Your Voice In A Dream

by girl_next_door_writes



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 12:29:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22771342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girl_next_door_writes/pseuds/girl_next_door_writes
Summary: A small fic about one of Sam Winchesters favourite firsts.
Kudos: 2





	I Heard Your Voice In A Dream

There had been so many firsts in Sam Winchesters life, many of which he may have wished he’d never had. There was the first time he shot a gun, the first time he’d beheaded a vampire, the first time he had sank a knife into living flesh. There was the first time he’d got someone elses blood in his mouth, the first time he had tried to wash his blood spattered clothes before realising he may as well just burn them. Yeah, there were many firsts Sam Winchester would rather forget, but there was one he would cling to, one that he would replay when the others got a little too much. It was an odd first, mostly because he wasn’t sure it counted as an actual first. Sam Winchester’s favourite first was the first time he met you, the first time he heard your voice and the first time he saw you smile.

Things had been pretty dark for a while now, years if he was being honest with himself, which he rarely was. Sam was good at putting on a brave face, making sure other people were okay and ignoring the emptiness within him that screamed to be filled. That darkness that sucked any light, any goodness, leaving a sense of hopelessness that he couldn’t shake. He was broken, he knew that much. He could be in a room full of people, a happy, social event with people laughing and joking but his laughter didn’t seem to come easy anymore, and when he did laugh it didn’t sound right to his ears. 

Maybe it was the lack of sleep. The nightmares were worse now, a mixture of memories and premonitions of death and despair that haunted his waking hours almost as much as his dreams. Whatever it was, Sam Winchester spent his days going through the motions, feeling like he was wading through custard. Everything seemed so much effort, his energies used for others rather than trying to find his own peace of mind. He was exhausted. And then it happened. This wasn’t ‘the first’, well, it was the start of it. 

Sam had passed out, slumped over a volume of forgotten lore on the table in the library, his body giving into the fatigue that he had been fighting so long. His mind drifted and just as the horrors of his life began to play out, the times he should have gone left instead of right, the calls he had made and how things could have played out differently, how he could have saved more people, a voice broke through the darkness. Like a sirens call, leading him towards the light, he searched for the origins but couldn’t find who the soft, comforting tone belonged to.

He woke with an ache in his shoulder but strangely refreshed in a way that he’d forgotten was possible. Things seemed a little easier that day, not perfect by any means but definitely easier. He had been hiding his pain for so long and for brief moments it felt almost like the darkness had left him. His smile came easier and when he said he was ‘okay’ it didn’t feel as much of a lie as it usually did. That wasn’t to say he was ‘fixed’ by that soothing voice, he still felt like a dial up connection in a broadband world. He longed to reach out, for some sort of connection with someone, but whenever he tried it was like his fingers met the cold glass of a mirror, his own insecurities and inadequacies reflected back at him, reminding him that nobody wanted to see that, they wanted strong, brave Sam. 

Each night the voice came. The faceless comforter who seemed to sing to his soul made him hunger for life in the light, seemed to call him to join them, telling him that all those negative thoughts were wrong, that he could rest, that he was safe. Sam had wondered if he should mention this to someone. Cas? Dean? Then again, that would mean explaining the whole situation to them and revealing how screwed up he really was. Perhaps it was his own guardian angel. Perhaps it was a part of his own mind trying to reassure him. He wondered if it was a voice he had heard before, if it belonged to someone he had once known. Maybe it was the voice of someone he would meet. That thought sent a shiver of excitement through him. Of course! He had been dreaming about future events so why couldn’t the voice be something about to enter his life? Maybe someone he could love, someone who could love him enough to help push all the broken pieces back together. 

The actual first, the REAL first, the one Sam Winchester locked away in his memory and hoarded like a dragon and his gold, happened about three months after that first time he heard that voice in his dream.

The boys had just finished up a case and were grabbing some breakfast before heading back to the bunker. Sitting in yet another mom and pop diner, scanning the menu even though they both knew what the other would order, a shiver ran through him. Some people say it’s like someone walking over your grave, but all Sam knew was that something was about to happen, his entire body screamed to be on alert, and he sat up straighter, scanning the diner with a furrowed brow. That’s when he heard it, that voice which was so familiar to him and yet so alien in this setting. 

“Crowley, I told you I don’t need any help.” There was an exasperated tone he hadn’t heard before, but before he could question it the suave King of Hell appeared in his peripheral vision, pulling up a chair and sitting, grinning at the brothers as his companion stood behind him looking more than just a little pissed off.

“Hello boys. Kitten here needs your help and I need my best drinking buddy alive so…”

“I don’t need help, I have it handled. Thank you but I will be going.” Sam’s eyes met yours and it was as if time stood still. Something had shifted and he wasn’t certain but from the way your eyes narrowed just a fraction, as if there was recognition there, had him hoping you had felt it too. Then, oh then, there was his favourite first. The corners of your lips raised, and he felt his mirroring your expression.

“Hi.” He said softly, unconsciously shifting over in his seat only for you to instinctively take up the newly vacated space.

“Hi.” You responded, the other men at the table completely forgotten. The comfort he had felt listening to the voice in his dreams was nothing compared to the way he felt right then, basking in the light that was your presence. Yes, there were many firsts Sam Winchester wished he couldn’t remember, but this one, the first time you smiled at him, the first time he heard your voice coming from your lips, this was his favourite.


End file.
